Echoes
by LadySnowTheStark
Summary: Consumed by grief and thrust into a world of finery she wants no part of, Diana Harris arrives in London and is determined to be miserable. And then, she meets Richard Fitzwilliam. (Accompaniment to "Exceptions", snippets from the early years of Richard and Diana. Each chapter to be a stand-alone story). ColonelOC
1. The First Meeting

_Hello! Some quick points to note here for returning Exceptions_ _fans: this story will take place prior to my old one, and will feature stand-alone chapters detailing events from the lives of Richard and Diana when they first meet, up until the fateful proposal. I have no concrete plans for this story apart from a few integral scenes that I want to share with you, so please feel free to review and let me know if there's anything you're curious to see, or any characters that you want to learn more about!_

 _This chapter takes places soon after Diana and her mother move to London, following the tragic death of her father. It's her first meeting with Richard, and the Fitzwilliam family as well, so I am interested to see what you make of it. Needless to say, there will be hints at the future that we all enjoy but for the most part the romance will be subtle, since I want to stay true to character and to the spirit of my original story: Diana and Richard were friends first, before anything else, after all._

 _I hope you all enjoy this! There's a new Pinterest board up for this one, on my current page (username: ladystarkff). Remember to review so I can feel like a writer again; it's been too long! Much love xx_

* * *

 **The First Meeting**

"I do _not_ want to go to a ball!"

"It is a _dinner._ And you _will_ go!"

"I won't!"

"Sarah!" Mina Harris stuck her head out of her daughter's bedroom door and yelled down for the maid. Without waiting to see if she'd heard, she turned back to her daughter. Diana sat on the middle of her bed defiantly, still in her day-dress, with her hair untidily strewn across her shoulders. Her eyes glinted dangerously, the blue irises a stark contrast against her dark hair and pale skin. She looked nothing like her mother – every inch of her, from the high forehead to the too-long fingers, was a mirror image of her father. And just like her father, she seemed to thrive off of driving Mina insane.

"Do not bother calling her, because I won't go," said Diana. Knowing exactly what would annoy her mother, she turned back to her book, ignoring the older woman completely.

Her mother's face reddened. "You will get dressed, you will go to dinner, and you will _like_ it. Unless you want me to take away your books and your music? Perhaps for longer than a week this time?"

Diana's eyes shot up from the page she was pretending to read, and finally they seemed wary. "You wouldn't do that."

"I would and I can," Mina folded her arms across her chest. "However, I will admit, for both of our sakes, it is better if I do not. Come to dinner and I will let you stay home for the next two weeks."

Frustrated, Diana threw the book to one side and glared at her mother. Mina knew immediately she had won. "Do I no longer have any choice in my life?" demanded Diana.

"You will do as you're told," pleased, Mina turned to leave the room, almost colliding head-on with the maid. "Why are you still standing here? Give her the green silk," snapped Mina. "And if you are even a second late, Diana, I willlock you in here until further notice."

Diana waited until her mother had left the room before she picked up the heavy book she had been reading, throwing it with all her might at the closed door. It would have made a loud noise, and perhaps even a dent, if Sarah hadn't caught it just before it made contact with the wood.

Giving the other girl a reproachful look, Sarah put the book on a table and went to the cupboard to search for the dress. She was slight, and rather mousey, with a tendency to run out of the room at the first sign of conflict between mother and daughter. However, she was also the closest thing Diana had to a friend in London, both girls having grown up together prior to their arrival, and everyone knew it. She tried to ignore how Diana had smothered her face into a pillow, her screams muffled by the heavy material. Knowing what would happen next, she waited until Diana had thrown the pillow away and flopped back down onto the bed, her anger spent.

"You shouldn't antagonize her," said Sarah gently, when there was silence. "She is upset as well."

Diana sat up and glared at her friend. "She is not, Sarah. You don't have to humanize her all the time."

Sarah did not answer. She took out the dress and a few other items, turning back to Diana and gesturing to the dressing-table. "Shall I make your hair?"

"As ugly as you can," still scowling, Diana flopped down onto the stool and gazed at her reflection moodily. "I hate London."

"You will like it once you leave the house, miss," said Sarah, picking up a brush and tapping it against her chin thoughtfully. The unmanageable tangles would need to be combed out first, but a lovely, low bun would be just proper enough to appease her mother, and yet comfortable enough that Diana would not fuss over it.

"I hate this house too. It's too small," complained Diana.

"Houses in London are all this size," said Sarah, beginning to comb Diana's hair. "The Fitzwilliams have a nice, big house, and I hear they even have a library. Perhaps you will be able to visit there more often."

Diana sniffed. "I hardly know them."

"They found us this house, Lady Fitzwilliam came to the funeral, and she and Lord Fitzwilliam have visited here every day," reminded Sarah. "You just have not seen them."

"I don't _want_ to see anyone."

"Of course, miss," Sarah smiled sympathetically. "But you may enjoy yourself. They have two sons, not too much older than yourself, I think."

Diana's expression darkened even further. "Is _that_ why mother insists I must go?"

"I doubt it," Sarah continued to comb her hair, as if Diana did not look as though she was capable of killing her mother. "The oldest son is courting someone, and the lady is very pretty and very rich. The younger one is a bit of a rogue, I believe he is only just back from Cambridge. But he will inherit no money and no title. Mrs. Harris would not approve."

Diana tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps I _should_ marry him, then."

"Oh, do not joke," Sarah scolded lightly. "Try to be genial, miss. It will do you good to have friends here."

"I have you," tone and expression lighter, Diana smiled at Sarah through the mirror. "Who else do I need?"

Sarah smiled back, but shook her head. "Someone you can go on walks with, and so you may enjoy balls once the season starts. Perhaps the Fitzwilliam men will know some young women you can be introduced to. _That_ is why Mrs. Harris wants you to make a good impression at dinner," she added, when Diana once again looked surly at the mention of her hosts' sons. "The Fitzwilliams are a very good family, wealthy and respectable. Their connections will do you good."

Diana sighed. "Very well. I will try and be cordial. Can I wear the blue silk instead?"

Sarah's lips twitched. "Mrs. Harris will not be pleased, miss."

"I can tell her I ripped the sleeve of the green one in a rage. _Please,_ Sarah?"

"I suppose," trying to hide her smile, Sarah began to wind locks of hair around her fingers. "Now hold still so we may make you pretty for your future husband."

Diana's eyes widened. "Sarah!"

Sarah laughed.

 **{-}**

Richard tugged at the collar of his shirt in annoyance, exchanging a look with his brother. His older brother looked bored, but then again Henry _always_ looked bored. In response to Richard's fidgeting, Henry merely raised an eyebrow, his eyes flickering to the drinks tray, which had been set up in all its glory, and then back. The message was clear. He could not make an excuse to leave, not until their guests appeared. Particularly guests whose arrival was so highly anticipated. Rolling his eyes, Richard raised his glass to indicate he had understood and tried not to draw his mother's attention.

Lady Alexandra Fitzwillam was insistent that they both sit with her friend, the newly-widowed Mina Harris. Richard did not see the appeal, but his mother had specifically gone down to Devon for the man's funeral, and his father had helped her rent rooms in London, since she planned to settle in town for the season. He had been surprised to hear that, assuming that she would stay at her late husband's estate in mourning, but something in his mother's voice as she spoke of her friend told him the news was not shocking to those who knew Mrs. Harris. He had not listened much, which he now realized was detrimental since, other than her name and widow-status, he did not know much about their guest tonight. Had his father said she had a son? Was that who the extra place setting was for?

They all heard the carriage pull up at the same time, and his mother cleared her throat daintily. As if given a signal, Richard and Henry stood up and their father went to the door to receive the woman personally. Richard raised his eyebrows and exchanged another look with Henry who, though slightly taken aback by their father's gesture, did not seem wholly surprised by it. Richard did see his brother's eyes widen when their father re-entered the room, however, and he turned to the door to see why.

 _Oh._ Mina Harris was not the only guest tonight, and he had been completely incorrect in thinking she had a son. She had, in fact, a daughter, a girl no older than eighteen, with dark blue eyes the same colour as her dress, and inky black hair piled on top of her head to show off her elegant, pale neck. For a few moments, Richard was speechless. The two women looked nothing alike, and if his father had not at that moment taken the girl's hand and introduced her as Diana Harris, he would not have known they were related. Mina Harris was short and thin, with brown hair, a small mouth and sharp but deep-set eyes. She looked as though she had not slept in weeks, and even as she hugged his mother and smiled, Richard did not think it reached her eyes.

But Diana Harris was a different story. Richard tried to observe her from the corner of his eye as she was introduced to his brother by his father, whilst he stood by his mother. She was certainly beautiful, in a striking way that made him want to turn his head and look at her again, but there was something else he could not quite pinpoint. The way she carried herself seemed… off.

"Of course, you remember Richard," his mother was saying, patting his arm. He immediately smiled and took Mrs. Harris's hand, bowing over it politely. "He came back from Derbyshire just last week, after visiting Pemberley," Lady Fitzwilliam continued. "I thought it would be nice for the children to all know one another, before the season begins."

Mina Harris smiled, but again it did not reach her eyes. "That is very kind of you, Alexandra. I am in your debt, as always."

"Do not be silly," waving away her friend's words, Lady Fitzwilliam turned and beckoned over the others. "Diana, my dear, you look wonderful," smiling, she pulled the girl in for a hug. The girl accepted the embrace but remained limp in his mother's arms. In fact, Richard saw Diana look at Mina from over Lady Alexandra's shoulder, her eyes dull.

Lady Alexandra pulled back and still held Diana's hands tightly, so Richard merely smiled and bowed as he was introduced. Diana curtseyed prettily enough, but her eyes, after a quick glance at his face, darted to the floor. They were blue.

"Temperamental," murmured Henry from next to him, and Richard turned to look at him. Henry indicated the girl discreetly as they took a few steps away from their parents and guests. "That is what the mother calls her. She has been unmanageable since the father died, apparently, resisting the move to London and screaming every time they try to make her leave the house. Mamma mentioned it to me last night, said we ought to be careful."

"Careful?" Richard raised an eyebrow. "She is a child, Henry."

"I agree. She looks dismal."

"You almost sound sympathetic."

"I pity her," Henry shrugged. "The mother wants her married off, preferably to someone with money."

Richard glanced back at Diana, who was still staring at the floor. "I don't know how well that will work."

"I'm second-guessing mamma's assessment."

"I don't think you should," said Richard. He continued to look at Diana, who still hadn't raised her eyes from the floor. "She has a look about her."

Henry did not answer, frowning at their parents. He was clearly disapproving of their inability to see how uncomfortable they were making the girl, since she had yet to say a word or even act as though she was aware of her surroundings. Ever since Henry had begun courting Miss Emily Davenport, Richard had begun to notice such changes in him. He was kinder, and certainly more attentive towards those younger than him. Uncharacteristically for Henry, he suddenly stepped into the circle and said, loudly, "Miss Harris, would you like a seat?"

"Oh, how silly of me!" smiling, Lady Fitzwilliam tugged Diana out of the closely knit group and towards where Richard was standing. "I am so sorry, my dear. Do sit down and make yourself comfortable."

Diana murmured a thank you and sat down, her fingers drumming against the arm of her chair absently. Henry sat next to her and picked up his glass, clearly satisfied with his one good deed of the day. Richard picked up his own drink, taking a seat by his father as the elders finally settled as well.

Diana did not speak for over thirty minutes. Henry did not notice her silence, he was too involved in a conversation with his father. Their mother and Mrs. Harris were huddled together and whispering, occasionally glancing at Diana. Richard tried not to look at the girl seated next to him, knowing she would not appreciate it. Her fingers had not stopped moving since she had sat down, and she had only looked up once, when her mother had distinctly said her name in a tone of voice that was full of disapproval. Richard had seen her sneer briefly, the most expression he had ever seen on her face, before looking down again.

"Richard?" his father's voice drew him out of his reverie, and he looked up as both he and Henry held out their glasses to him.

Rolling his eyes, he refreshed their drinks and was just about to try and join in their conversation when his father suddenly addressed Diana. "You play the pianoforte, do you not, Miss Harris?"

Diana raised her eyes only a little, to show she was listening, but not enough that they could see her expression. Wordlessly, she nodded, a quick jerk of her head. She still did not speak.

Lord Fitzwilliam was not perturbed. "We have a pianoforte rusting away in the library, of no use to anyone since my boys do not play," he said, his voice friendly. Richard and Henry exchanged curious looks. "We saved it for Miss Darcy, but she has her own now, in Darcy House. Perhaps I could convince your mother to shift it to your home, while you are in London?"

Diana's eyes, which had gone back to the floor, suddenly shot up to look at him.

Richard felt as though he needed to take a step back, even though it was not him she was looking towards. Her eyes were too sharp, and hard. The dark pools of blue, the colour of the starless night sky, or a raging sea before a storm; any number of metaphors sprung to mind, but nothing quite described Diana's eyes as she gazed at Lord Fitzwilliam unblinkingly. The amount of pain in her gaze was what struck Richard the most. Surely a girl of her age should not look as though she had watched the world burn, leaving her the sole survivor?

Richard's observation lasted only a few seconds, though it felt like longer. Suddenly, Diana was blinking and looking back at the floor, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. But she was smiling now, a small quirk of her lips, and her pale cheeks were flush with colour. When she looked up again, she was a different person: a girl again, instead of a woman filled with pain.

"Thank you, sir," she said, and her voice was lilting, almost musical. "You are very kind."

Lord Fitzwilliam grinned, and the twinkle in his eyes told his sons that he had been hoping for such a reaction. "I'll have it sent over first thing in the morning," he promised. "Perhaps you can even play with my boy one evening, as a treat. He has quite the voice."

"Hardly a praiseworthy voice, father," Richard protested immediately. "And we do not even know if Miss Harris sings. I always prefer to duet."

Henry chuckled as his brother was suddenly put on the spot. "You certainly never mind the solo attention when you are talking."

"I can sing," said Diana immediately, and immediately the three men turned to her. She did not seem bothered, and she did not turn her eyes down, as some young women did, when men looked at them to speak. She merely tilted her head to the side, her eyes sliding over to Richard. "Do you like music, Mr. Fitzwilliam?"

Richard nodded dumbly, unable to speak. Diana's eyes had lightened, along with her tone, but he found that _this_ girl was infinitely more difficult to accept. Her eyes were not dark blue at all, but a clear, light blue, like the sky on a sunny day. They also looked as though they had seen right through him, even though she barely glanced at him for longer than a few seconds, before turning to his brother as he took over the conversation.

Richard blinked and cleared his throat, turning back to the table with drinks and pouring himself another one. He was unused to women reacting to him this way. Often, they fell over themselves trying to be agreeable, knowing he was the son of a peer and a favourite cousin of Mr. Darcy of Pemberley. He was used to women of meagre means eagerly asking after his family, his home, even his horses. Never had a woman asked him if he liked music, or what books he read, or anything of the sort. And if they were not being agreeable, a hint of his lack of fortune as a younger son usually meant they turned their nose up at him and stalked off. Diana had merely addressed him as if he was any other man.

It was a feeling, Richard realized with a jolt, that he rather liked.

 **{-}**

Diana could feel her annoyance lift after Lord Fitzwilliam's offer to send her a pianoforte. She had made up her mind to be silent, sulky, and altogether disagreeable for the duration of their visit but the family had thrown her right from the beginning. Lady Fitzwilliam had hugged her, and her gentle, maternal embrace had terrified Diana. Every time she saw just how pleasant and kind mothers were supposed to be, it made her resent her own even more. And then the elder son, Henry, had been kind as well, silently sitting next to her and allowing her to be silent, as if he were an elder brother tolerating a younger sibling's tantrums. The younger son, Richard, had tried to pretend he was not constantly looking at her, but he had not spoken, and she had appreciated that as well.

But then he _had_ spoken, and suddenly they had all been looking at her, and she had not felt afraid in the slightest. There was something warm in their eyes as they all waited for her to speak, and Diana found herself smiling despite herself.

"Have you been enjoying town, Miss Harris?" Henry Fitzwilliam's voice drew her out of her reverie, and she looked at him. The men had been talking amongst themselves for a few minutes now, and this was the third time one of them had addressed her. Diana knew they were trying to draw her into conversation, to make her more comfortable, and she did not have the heart to reject their efforts.

"No," she said simply. "I do not like London."

She had expected at least one of them to be offended at that. From what she could gather, the Fitzwilliams were a fashionable family who spent a great deal of time in London. To her surprise, however, all three of them looked relieved.

"Thank God," muttered Richard, ignoring the pointed look of disapproval his father threw him. "What? She said what we have all been thinking," he defended himself. Diana raised an eyebrow, and he grinned at her, his face the perfect picture of friendliness. "We must let you in on the secret now. You see, we despise town, Miss Harris."

"But I thought –"

"Alexandra loves it," muttered Lord Fitzwilliam grumpily. "She has all her friends here, naturally she expects us to like it as well."

"But we do not," Henry rolled his eyes. "Richard prefers our cousin's company, and our father wants to read and hunt in his spare time."

"Henry used to hate London as much as us, but that is no longer the case," said Richard teasingly. Diana smiled, remembering Sarah's words that the elder Mr. Fitzwilliam was courting a lady in town. "I have no doubt you will meet the lovely Miss Emily soon, Miss Harris."

"I look forward to it," said Diana, offering Henry a smile when he looked annoyed at his brother's remark.

Lord Fitzwilliam chuckled, and then promptly made a face when his wife called him over to the corner of the room where she was sitting with Mrs. Harris. "Wish me luck," he muttered, getting up out of his chair and making his way towards her, the picture of deference.

Diana watched him go, still smiling, and when she turned back, the two Fitzwilliam boys were watching her curiously.

"Yes?" she asked self-consciously.

"We expected you to be a terror," said Richard bluntly, even as Henry not-so-discreetly nudged him in the side. Richard ignored him, fixing Diana with a look. "Are you?"

"My mother seems to think so," said Diana, keeping her voice even.

"I assure you, we did not mean –" began Henry hastily.

"That's alright," Diana waved away his apologies. "I do not want to be here, Mr. Fitzwilliam, that is no secret."

"Here in London, or here in our home?" asked Richard.

Diana shrugged one shoulder. "What does it matter? I am here now."

"Precisely," said Henry hastily. "Richard, where are your manners? She is our guest."

"Of course. My apologies," he did not sound apologetic in the slightest. Diana glanced at him curiously, and saw that he was smirking. She noticed that his eyes were a particularly nice shade of hazel, like melted honey. She decided she rather liked the colour.

They spoke idly for several minutes after that, and dinner was announced not long after. Even at the table, Diana noted the way the family behaved, and the informal way both Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam addressed her mother. How long had they known each other? In her own grief, and her unwillingness to attend the gathering, Diana had neglected to ask for any information about their hosts. Mrs. Harris, to her credit, was being much more agreeable than she had been for weeks now. She smiled, complimented each dish, engaged in conversation with the two boys, and did not even seem bothered when Lord Fitzwilliam informed her he would be sending Diana a pianoforte.

"You are so kind," she said, smiling and shaking her head. "I will not dissuade you. It will do the child some good to have a distraction."

Diana heard the affectionate tone in her mother's voice and genuinely assumed she was speaking about someone else – quickly, she glanced at her mother, her expression full of surprise, and realized that she had indeed been talking about her. Blushing from embarrassment, she looked away. However, Richard Fitzwilliam had seen her.

He cleared his throat, clearly awkward at having been caught looking at her. Diana turned even redder and fixed her eyes back on her plate. It would have been better if she had kept to her decision and stayed surly. The Fitzwilliams were kind, but she did not know them, and she was not comfortable with how much they seemed to know about _her._

The scraping of chairs made her jump, and she realized that her mother and Lady Fitzwilliam were getting up, while the three men made no move to leave. Trying not to show her disappointment, she got up and followed her mother, though she could have sworn Richard almost seemed to look sympathetic as she left the room.

Neither of them had anything to fear, however. Diana was quickly learning that Lady Alexandra was everything her own mother was not. As if she knew exactly how uncomfortable Diana was, Lady Alexandra pointed out an open door that had so far remained close at the end of the parlour, giving Diana a conspiratorial look. "I do believe the piano my husband was talking about earlier is in there, my dear. Would you play a little something for us, to pass the time?"

Diana's eyes lit up. Once she was sure her mother would not object, she practically ran to the room, the ice around her heart melting when she saw that the candles had been freshly lit, and sheet music had been set out on the piano bench for her. Picking up something at random and not caring what it was, Diana gingerly sat down and rested her fingers against the keys, her eyes filling with unbidden tears. Her own pianoforte was still in Devon, and she had not played since her father's death, when they had left the estate and never looked back. It had hurt to leave her home, her father's grave, all her memories, but it had hurt to leave her music the most. It had been the one thing that had given her solace, a way to bond with her father, who was an accomplished pianist himself. Music had been something even her mother had enjoyed.

Dwelling on the past would not do, though, and especially not here. Diana sniffed and quickly set up the music, pressing a few keys to check if the tuning was correct. It was – she raised an eyebrow, but did not allow herself to think of the obvious lengths to which the Fitzwilliams had gone to, to make her feel comfortable in their home. For a moment, she hesitated, wondering if she still remembered how to. However, she needn't have worried. Once she had familiarised herself with the notes, she found herself playing as effortlessly as if she had never stopped.

Diana did not know how much time had passed, when she saw someone from the corner of her eye enter the room and pause in the doorway. She did not stop playing, letting the familiar sounds of the music wash over her. The song ended, but she merely kept playing, easily switching to an older piece that she knew by heart. A few minutes after, she saw Richard Fitzwilliam venture further into the room, and finally looked up.

"Pardon me," he said, and his voice was loud enough to reach her despite the fact that she was still playing.

"It's quite alright," she answered. She slowed down her playing, thinking he had come to summon her back, but he immediately gestured for her to continue.

"Please, carry on," he said. To her surprise, he stuck his head out the door and said something, which resulted in his brother joining him a few seconds later. Henry grinned at her, and both men sat down, close enough to speak to her, but also far enough that they could all be seen from the other room.

Diana did not question their odd behaviour. They had been kind to her, and she did not want to seem ungrateful. She continued to play, and Richard picked up a book. Henry, however, was listening intently. When the song finished, he was clapping softly before she could continue to another one.

"You are very good, Miss Harris," he complimented. "I do not think I have ever seen anyone play for so long without having to consult notes."

Diana smiled and bowed her head slightly, accepting the praise. "I had a good teacher."

"A music master?" questioned Henry.

"No, my father," said Diana softly. Before either man could react, she quickly switched pieces and began to play a much livelier piece, returning Richard's smile when he looked up from his book.

"You will be a hit with the women at the parties our mother throws," said Richard.

"Oh?" Diana raised an eyebrow.

"He means they are always looking for someone to play a song that they can have a dance to," said Henry. "Of course, you would be expected to dance as well, but very few ladies of our acquaintance can play as well as you."

"Ah, I wouldn't say that. Darcy has that friend, his sister is quite insistent on pointing out how accomplished she is all the time," added Richard. "You two ought to have a competition."

Diana snorted. "I am hardly accomplished. We did not have music masters and fine teachers in the country."

"But you had some instruction, did you not?" asked Henry curiously.

"Some," Diana shrugged and switched songs again, trying to hide her smile when Richard quirked an eyebrow at the Italian opera she was attempting to remember the notes to. "My father taught me music after an unfortunate incident with a music master. My mother employed tutors for all the rest."

"What kind of incident?" asked Richard.

Diana hesitated, and then decided she did not care if Richard Fitzwilliam thought she was a brat. "He made a comment I did not like. I closed the lid of the instrument over his fingers."

Henry blinked owlishly, as if he was unable to understand what she had just said. Diana's cheeks turned pink and she busied herself with the music again. The tense silence only lasted a few seconds. It was broken when Richard let out a loud guffaw.

"Can he still play?" he asked, still chuckling.

Diana's lips twitched. "No."

Both the brothers laughed at that, and Diana could not help but laugh with them.

 **{-}**

"Have you been to the shops yet, my dear?"

Diana looked up from her cup of tea and shook her head wordlessly at Lady Fitzwilliam's question. Sensing her mother's look, however, she further elaborated. "I am not fond of shopping, my lady."

She knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say, since she distinctly heard Richard Fitzwilliam laugh from next to her, disguising the noise as a cough. Her mother was now glaring at her. Fortunately, Lady Fitzwilliam did not seem bothered.

"You have just not gone out with me yet," she sniffed. "Your mother says you are to come to Almack's next week, we must get you properly outfitted before then."

"I did not know I was invited, my lady."

"Oh, leave that to me," Lady Fitzwilliam waved a hand flippantly. "You must have a few new dresses for the season as well. Mina, would you be willing to sacrifice an afternoon with your lovely daughter, so I may take her to our tailors'?"

"Of course, Alexandra," said Mrs. Harris.

Diana had no doubt this was what her mother had planned from the beginning, and felt her mood turn sour again. Would she _ever_ stop parading Diana around as a means to an end?

"You might take her to the music store across from your milliner's as well," said Lord Fitzwilliam suddenly. Diana's eyes darted up to his in surprise. Subtly, he winked at her. "Monsieur Dupree has quite a collection, and the child will need something to play once we send the pianoforte tomorrow."

Lady Fitzwilliam agreed, and Diana found herself joining in the conversation after that. It was just so difficult, to be constantly miserable in the company of people who were so happy, and at no expense to herself. It did not matter how much attention they gave her: in reality, they seemed to be giving her very little, seemingly content to let her sit in silence and only join in as she pleased. It was refreshing to not have to smile constantly or pretend to be interested in things she found no joy in. She was almost sorry when the chimes from the grandfather clock in the hallway told them what time it was, signalling their departure.

"I will call on you first thing tomorrow and see about taking you shopping," promised Lady Fitzwilliam as she hugged Diana goodbye. This time, Diana drew her arms cautiously around the older woman and hugged her back, very briefly. She did not think she was imaging the happy gleam in her eye when she pulled away. "If not tomorrow, then definitely the day after," added Lady Fitzwilliam.

"But your pianoforte will be with you by tomorrow," added Lord Fitzwilliam. "On the condition, of course, that you play at the dinner we are having in a fortnight's time."

Diana blushed, but did not argue. She had no doubt that he would have forgotten all about this promise by the time the dinner actually came around, but she did not want to voice her concerns out loud. Instead, she curtsied and smiled and thanked him as earnestly as she could, before turning to say her goodbyes to the two young men waiting by the door.

Henry was the first to step forward, smiling kindly and yet a little awkwardly. "It was very nice to meet you, Miss Harris."

"And you," she smiled back. "Thank you for being so kind to me."

"We had no reason not to be," said Richard. One look at his face told Diana he still had not quite figured out if he liked her or not. Clearly, he was not as easy to win over as his brother, though much easier to read. "It was a pleasure to hear you play, as well."

Diana inclined her head at his compliment, but did not speak. Henry nudged his brother pointedly and Diana glanced at him, realizing immediately that she had been staring at Richard. "Well," Henry cleared his throat. "We hope you can count us as friends from now on, Miss Harris. London is much more tolerable when you know someone at those blasted balls."

"Particularly more so if you know who to hide from," added Richard.

Diana was slightly taken aback by their frankness. "That would be nice," she said, not knowing what else to say. Her mother called her at that moment and she obediently turned to follow her out of the room. Despite herself, she found her eyes wandering back as they crossed the threshold, just in time to see the family of four – united by more than just familial obligation – turn away as the door closed behind them. Almost immediately, she felt the good humour and love that she had been cocooned in all evening dissipate, and tried not to let her face fall as she climbed up into the carriage after her mother and drove back to their rented rooms in the city she hated.

Only, she did not hate it so much anymore.


	2. The First Ball

**Hello, all! To those who dearly miss Richard in _Equinox,_ I hope this eases some of your pain. Chronologically this is a few weeks after the previous chapter (for those who did not read, that was the first time Diana met the Fitzwilliam family). There are a few more familiar characters here, and I'm sure that'll be a hit. **

**This is the first public gathering Diana attended in London, she's still a little mixed up and full of teen angst, but (as we've seen), she has a few people to help her through it now :) Let me know what you thought, what else you'd like to see and how you're doing so far! I have a few more scenes planned out, but I know most of you are loving the Richard/Diana friendship dynamic.**

 **Until next time! Much love xx**

* * *

"You are to dance with everyone, and I do mean everyone, Diana. You cannot afford to be picky, not at this time. Alexandra has assured me she will only introduce suitable young men, but if Henry or Richard are to facilitate an introduction you will not say no until your card is full, and even then you will be agreeable. And make sure you leave a dance for both the Fitzwilliam boys and their cousin, Darcy. He is _extremely_ eligible, and he –"

"We're here, mother," Diana interrupted Mina's constant flow of instructions abruptly, not even bothering to apologize as the carriage jolted to a stop and they heard a footman scramble for the door. Studiously avoiding eye-contact, she waited for her mother to be helped out first and then stumbled out of the carriage herself, her movements lethargic. They had been preparing for Almack's for the better part of the day, and she had gotten little rest. In addition, her new dress was slightly tighter around the bust than she was comfortable with, and her hair had been wound tightly into a fashionable style at the top of her head. She felt awkward, off-balance, and irritable.

No different than any other day, then.

Almack's was meant to be impressive and exclusive, the ideal place for someone without the benefit of a debut ball like Diana to make an entrance into society. However, as they hung up their wraps and showed their passes to be let into the hall, Diana found herself looking around uninterestedly. The Pump Rooms in Bath were just as loud, full of the same kinds of people, and usually had better lighting. The decorations, though tasteful, were of the kind that you saw in any well-to-do household. In addition, the patronesses, who hovered by the door to receive (and examine) newcomers, did not look as intimidating as they did ancient.

As they entered the throng of people mingling and chatting, Diana tried to stay close to her mother, for once grateful for the look of disdain that was Mina's default expression. It ensured that no one approached them, and she was quite happy to follow her mother around in silence until they seemed to reach their destination. Along one end of the room, several matrons were seated with glasses in their hands, chatting and keeping a sharp watch on their charges, who danced or talked in groups nearby. None of the ladies were familiar.

"Smile," hissed Mina, and Diana forced her lips to quirk up as she shook hands, curtseyed, and allowed herself to be passed from one person to the other, all of them exclaiming over every part of her outfit in identical tones of wonder. It was a gift from Lady Fitzwilliam, a pretty, rosy pink gown with lace trimmings in a darker shade, and Sarah had managed to procure a wreath of matching pink rosebuds for Diana's hair. She had tried to show enthusiasm and gratitude for it, since she knew the dress was expensive and not something her mother would have been able to afford on her own, but she had a feeling Lady Fitzwilliam hadn't minded that she had spent most of the afternoon poring over the music they had purchased, and playing soft melodies on her new pianoforte.

"Oh, you've arrived!" finally, Diana heard a familiar voice and turned around. Lady Fitzwilliam was approaching them, and a young woman probably a few years older than Diana was following her dutifully. "Wonderful to see you, my dears," they exchanged quick greetings, and Lady Fitzwilliam clapped her hands together excitedly. "I have wanted to make this introduction for weeks! Emily, this is Miss Diana Harris. Diana, this is Miss Emily Davenport. You remember I told you about her last time we spoke?"

"Of course," Diana curtseyed quickly, and offered Miss Davenport a hesitant smile. "It is so nice to meet you."

"And you," Emily inclined her head, her answering smile much brighter than Diana's. "Your dress is lovely."

Diana thanked her, and they made idle conversation as they waited for a signal from one of the older ladies as to what they were supposed to do. Diana tried hard to keep the smile on her face from slipping, but she was fighting a losing battle. A quick glance at Emily Davenport showed that she seemed utterly bored with what was going on around her. And then, suddenly, she straightened up and smiled. Diana followed her gaze and saw that they were now being approached by a small group of gentlemen, none of whom at first glance looked familiar to her at all.

"Where have you been?" Lady Fitzwilliam was scolding the approaching gentlemen, but two of them had already separated from the rest of the party. "I distinctly said to be here early!"

"Apologies, Mamma," the one at the front bowed his head slightly, and Diana realized that it was Henry Fitzwilliam. "We found ourselves a little side-tracked."

"Side-tracked? Oh," Lady Fitzwilliam narrowed her eyes. "Where are those two?"

"Side-tracked," said Henry, his tone bored. His eyes drifted towards where the two young ladies were standing, and he suddenly looked like he was trying very hard not to smile. Diana turned her face, as if to look at her mother, and from the corner of her eye saw that Emily Davenport was blushing furiously. Amused, she hid her own smile behind her fan.

Lady Fitzwilliam sniffed, a look of disapproval on her face, but did not comment further. Instead, she said something to her son in a low voice and then turned and took Diana's mother's arm, quickly engaging her in conversation and leading her away into the crowd. Immediately, the humour vanished from Diana's eyes, and she began to feel uncomfortable. What was she to do now, in the company of girls she did not know and two people who would clearly prefer it if she left them alone?

"Miss Harris?" Emily's voice was soft, and interrupted her musings. "Would you like to walk with me?"

Diana blinked and turned to face the other girl. Emily was no longer looking at Henry: instead, she was watching Diana with a look of mild concern on her face. "I do not think you know many of the ladies here," she explained, when Diana still did not reply. "You do not need to stand here alone. We can take a turn about the room and see if we can find some of my acquaintances, if you like."

Diana blinked in confusion. "Why are you –" she began, and then abruptly shut her mouth when she realised how rude she was about to be.

Emily did not seem to find anything odd in her half-sentence at all. "Why am I being kind to you?" she offered, and smiled again when Diana looked horrified at having been caught. "Because I'd like us to be friends. I hear you are quite the proficient pianist," a sudden twinkle in her eye made Diana wonder exactly who she had heard it from. "I would not want to end up with broken fingers, should I upset you."

Diana's eyebrows shot up and she turned pink, but Emily's smile did not waver. Instead, she inclined her head in the opposite direction of where the group of ladies they were standing with were heading. Diana noticed that the gentlemen Henry had entered with – and with whom he was now standing – were not too far away from them now. In addition to Richard Fitzwilliam, whom she also recognised, there was another distinctly handsome man with them, along with a few others she was sure she had seen at another dinner her mother had tricked her into going to.

"A walk would be nice," said Diana finally. "And… perhaps you can call me Diana?"

"And you can call me Emily," the blonde woman linked their arms and gave her a subtle wink. "I think we are going to be great friends."

 **!**

"Have you met the elusive Miss Harris yet, Darcy?" asked John Boothe curiously. "Lady Alexandra told my mother she is quite the looker."

"I have not had the pleasure," said Darcy. Richard resisted the urge to snort: his cousin had barely looked at any of the women they had been introduced to since they entered the ballroom, never mind spoken to one he had never met before.

"Well, she's right over there, next to Henry's sweetheart," Boothe said, which caused Henry to scowl at him pointedly. Boothe ignored him. "My, what a figure! And only sixteen years old. I hear the father's just died and left the mother and daughter broke, is that true?"

Henry made a non-committal sound in response, and Richard gave Boothe a look that told him to stop talking, but the blonde man was looking at Darcy, waiting to hear his opinion. Reluctantly, he followed Boothe's gaze, barely glancing at the ladies before turning back to face his part. "Ah, yes, she is quite pretty," said Darcy. His tone made it clear he was not interested in the topic at all, but something in his voice made Richard look up from his drink immediately. "But, she is a child."

"Every woman is a girl to you, cousin," Henry snorted. "However, _that_ girl is best left alone, if for no other reason than the fact that her mother is unbearable."

"I'd bear with her mother if I got to see those eyes up-close," said John Boothe cheekily. Fresh out of Cambridge with nothing but a pretty face and a distant relation to the Duke of Buckingham to recommend him, Richard did not feel guilty at all for the minor shove he gave him, that caused his glass to fall out of his hand and land with a dull thud on the carpeted floor. Swearing, Boothe excused himself to go get another drink, and Darcy let out a quiet sigh of relief when he was gone.

"You're welcome, cousin," said Richard, raising his glass pointedly. Darcy almost smiled.

Henry, however, was not fooled. "Richard, if you are growing fond of Miss Harris, I suggest you dull your feelings post-haste," he said dryly. "As lovely as she is, getting too attached would be unwise."

"I am not attached," Richard protested. "Boothe annoys us all. He is only here because we were together at Cambridge, though we saw him in town more than we did in lessons."

" _You_ did, you mean," corrected Darcy. "I attended lessons for both of us, I believe."

Richard grinned. "And I do not regret a second of it."

"Enough," Henry groaned. "Mamma says we all three must dance with her, and though this will not please you, Richard, I am afraid if Boothe wants an introduction we must allow it."

"Perhaps Miss Harris will save us the trouble and step on his toes throughout their dance," said Richard slyly. "She does seem to have a fondness for breaking appendages."

"You had better hope she does not have a fondness for breaking yours," said Darcy.

"I think I can handle myself, cousin."

"Can you?" Darcy raised an eyebrow. "I would enjoy seeing if this girl can put you in your place, Richard."

"Many have tried; all have failed," Richard dropped his glass onto a nearby table and rubbed his hands gleefully. "Shall we begin? I do believe I shall ask Miss Emily for the pleasure of her hand first, if my dear brother does not object?"

"You know perfectly well I can have no objection until the engagement is final," said Henry sourly. "Darcy, you must ask Miss Harris to dance."

Darcy rolled his eyes. "Why doesn't Richard ask her?"

"Richard wants to dance with Emily."

" _You_ want to dance with Emily!" Darcy protested.

"Yes, but I –"

"Good evening," a smooth, feminine voice cut into their bickering, and all three gentlemen straightened up automatically. "I thought it best to venture forth myself, as you three seemed otherwise occupied."

Richard grinned and bowed, giving Emily Davenport a wink that would have make any other woman blush; Emily merely rolled her eyes. Standing just behind her, Diana Harris was wearing a pink gown that made her look much more girlish than she had the last time Richard had seen her. She was even smiling now. Nevertheless, her eyebrows did shoot up at his actions, and he could not resist bowing exaggeratedly over the hand she offered hesitantly, pressing a quick kiss to the back of her glove with unnecessary showmanship. From behind him, Darcy coughed, and Emily swatted his shoulder with her fan. Richard turned to her immediately. "You look lovely as ever, Miss Emily. How we did miss you at dinner last week! Why, a certain member of our party was quite ill with longing."

"You look to be in remarkably good health for someone who was sick with missing me, Richard," said Emily.

"Why, I never said it was I," said Richard slyly. "I wonder who else it could be? Any guesses, Henry?"

Emily did not even blush. "Behave yourself, Richard. You mustn't scandalise Miss Harris with your cheek; unlike you, she has manners."

"We could all do with a little less manners, I think," said Richard. "Miss Harris would agree with me. Too much good behaviour, and you'll end up like Cousin Darcy!"

"Thank you, Richard," said Darcy dryly.

"Have you met?" interjected Henry. "Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, Miss Diana Harris, lately of Devon."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Darcy," said Diana, holding out her hand, which Darcy grasped and bowed over briefly. "And I do encourage you to keep teasing, Mr. Fitzwilliam," she added, looking at Richard from the corner of her eye. "A joke is only amusing if everyone involved is laughing, after all."

"And are we? All laughing, that is."

"We will be shortly, since your brother looks as though he'd like to empty his glass over your head."

Darcy, who had just taken a sip from his own glass, promptly choked on his drink. Henry snorted out a laugh and thumped him on the back, and Emily snapped open her fan to hide her giggles behind it. Richard's smile did not fade. If anything, he grinned wider, and held out his hand again. "Would you do me the honour of a dance, Miss Harris?"

Diana blinked, slightly taken aback by his cheerful demeanour. "I – well, yes, alright."

"If Miss Emily will oblige me, we will stand up with you," said Henry immediately, and Emily smiled delightedly. "Darcy, would you like us to find you a partner for this set?"

Darcy shook his head. "I do believe I see an acquaintance nearby. I will re-join you presently. Ladies," he bowed shortly before taking his leave.

"Does he ever smile?" wondered Emily out loud.

"Rarely," said Henry.

"No," said Richard.

"Which is it?" asked Diana.

"You ought to dance with him and find out," replied Richard. Diana frowned and allowed him to lead her to the floor, still puzzling over his curious humour. The more insolent she was, the funnier he seemed to find it. How… odd.

"So, Miss Harris. Are you still not enjoying London?" asked Richard as they stood opposite each other.

Diana shrugged. "Your mother has been very kind to me. Your father, as well."

"Yes, but that is not an answer," Richard continued to grin. "Have you been out anywhere since we last saw you? To the museums, or the parks, perhaps?" Diana shook her head. "Ah, that will not do. Mamma is planning an excursion to Hyde Park tomorrow, I must insist you join us."

"Oh, that is not necessary, I –"

"I will inform my mother of it once the dance is over," Richard spoke over her casually. "Though, due to the timing of our trip, I doubt your mamma will be able to join us. It is right during peak visiting hours. I do hope you are still amenable?" Diana closed her mouth abruptly, giving him a searching look. He inclined his head. "I thought you might be. Excellent."

The dance required most of their attention from that point on, though Diana's mind was still whirring. It was one thing for the Fitzwilliams to be kind to her out of some sort of old friendship, and she had yet to discern what Emily Davenport's true motives were, but Richard Fitzwilliam was something else entirely. Initially, she had assumed he was merely flirting with her, but even though he very clearly was, there was an undertone of genuineness to all his words that made her hesitant to dismiss him. He was tiresome, to be sure; Diana had no doubt that his particular kind of humour would annoy her sooner rather than later. Nevertheless, it was… nice, in a way, to simply be friendly with someone close to her own age who clearly had no expectations from her.

The dance ended and Diana applauded politely with the rest of the group, allowing Richard to escort her back to the corner they had all been standing in previously. Darcy was still there, now joined by a handsome, unfamiliar man.

"Oh, this will be fun," muttered Richard under his breath. Diana shot him a curious look. "Do try not to dismember this one, Miss Harris. He can be rather entertaining, at times."

"What do you –" Diana started to question, but they had already arrived and suddenly Henry was there, resting a brotherly hand on her shoulder as he introduced her to John Boothe, 'an old friend from Cambridge' who looked entirely too pleased to see her. "Charmed," said Diana, curtseying and turning away almost immediately. Handsome though he was, she had already made up her mind to avoid new acquaintances, barely able to keep up with her current ones.

Mr. Boothe, however, was not deterred. "I have heard great things about you, Miss Harris," he said, uttering his words in a practiced drawl that immediately grated on Diana's nerves. "My mother saw you last week at the Robertson's dinner and praised your beauty highly. Far be it for me to call my mother a liar, but you are even lovelier in person."

Emily hid a derisive snort behind her fan from Diana's side, and Diana herself had to try very hard not to gape at the man's forwardness. Darcy looked disapproving, Henry looked uncomfortable, but Richard was smiling, watching for her response eagerly.

Diana knew the polite thing to do would be to accept the compliment, move on with the conversation and possibly walk away, but the mischievous pair of hazel eyes that were watching her seemed to give her a confidence she had not known she possessed. Fluttering her eyelashes, she looked up at Mr. Boothe in mock-shyness. "You are very kind," she demurred, and she could have sworn Darcy choked on his drink again.

Mr. Boothe's eyes glinted, her timidity encouraging him – as she had known it would. "Even our friends here have been raving about you. I must admit I have been anxious to meet you for some time."

"Is that so? I confess, sir, I am not very interesting."

"Ah, on the contrary," Mr. Boothe waved away her modest reply, and Diana wondered if he knew she was being sarcastic. Judging by the looks of the people around her, he was the only one who did _not_ know. "I understand you have never been to town before this season?" Diana shook her head, and he looked sympathetic. "Devonshire is beautiful, of course, but growing up there must have been so different from the London way of life. A simple country girl like yourself must find it so difficult to adjust."

"Only slightly," said Diana. Henry looked as though he would have liked to intervene, as if sensing where Boothe was going with the conversation, but Diana saw Emily press his arm discreetly, and he wisely kept silent.

"You are doing a remarkable job. The favour of the Fitzwilliam family is, after all, not lightly given."

Diana smiled coyly. "I suppose you would like to know what I did to earn such favour, Mr. Boothe? I assure you, there is no underhandedness involved."

He blinked, suddenly taken aback by her directness. "I – well, I did not mean it like that, exactly. I only meant –"

"I am sure you only meant to ask how the country lass with no kind of formal education or high-society upbringing has been at all your titled friends' assemblies and balls, isn't that right?" she raised an eyebrow, and Mr. Boothe began to splutter out apologies and insistences that she had misunderstood him. "Oh, no need to apologise, sir. If you look over there, however –" she gestured to the crowd of young ladies behind him who were surrounded by strict looking matrons, "– you may find some ladies more willing to accept your compliments than myself. We simple country girls prefer charm, not insolence."

Mr. Boothe gaped at her for a few moments, until Darcy cleared his throat pointedly. "We wish you a pleasant evening, John," he said, and something about his quiet voice but slightly intimidating figure made John Boothe shut his mouth, offer a strained bow to the two ladies, and depart quickly.

Richard waited until he was out of earshot before bursting into laughter, and Emily joined him, abandoning her fan and giggling freely. Darcy cracked a smile and raised his glass to Diana subtly, while Henry merely shook his head tiredly.

"I hope I was not too rude," said Diana innocently, and her words only made Richard and Emily laugh harder.

To Diana's surprise, Henry patted her shoulder again. "Boothe got what he deserved, I'd say. And I can see that mamma was right about you, Miss Harris."

"What did she say?"

"I was concerned you may not be able to handle some of the gentlemen here. She told me not to worry," Henry gave her a pointed look. "Though, try not to do that too often."

"Don't listen to him!" interrupted Richard. Diana jumped at his loud voice, every syllable dripping with amusement. His eyes were dancing with laughter and crinkling up at the edges in a way that made him look even handsomer than usual. "Why, that's the most fun I've had at Almack's in years!"

"I agree," Emily beamed. "Oh, Diana, you really are quite funny."

"She is a wolf in sheep's clothing," said Richard, and there was a hint of pride in his voice as he looked at her. Diana blinked at the sudden feeling of warmth that spread throughout her body as he directed the full force of those eyes onto her, and for a few moments she forgot to listen to what he was saying. "We ought to introduce her to all the men in attendance, just so she can give them a good dressing down."

"Miss Harris is not here for your amusement, Richard," said Henry.

"Yes, only for my own, apparently," Diana said sardonically. This time it was Henry who snorted with laughter.

The beginnings of another song were heard, and Henry held out his hand to Diana in a silent request, which she accepted gladly. Richard and Emily followed, both still smiling, and Darcy retreated back to whichever acquaintance he had been with during the last set. The dance was faster than the last, and required more of her concentration, so Henry did not have time to speak to her as Richard had. However, Diana was learning that, despite how close the brothers were, their personalities were quite distinct. Henry was quiet, a bit more reserved, and already quite paternal when it came to her. Richard, on the other hand, was loud, preferring to tease instead of engaging in serious conversations, and seemed to revel in anything faintly inappropriate, thus his clear fondness for her. Diana was unable to decide which one she preferred.

They re-formed their little group when the dance ended, and people came and went much more frequently when there was a break in the music. The conversations that followed were friendly, but Diana was careful to avoid another John Boothe-style interaction. Henry and Richard introduced her to more of their friends, all eligible young men, and three of them asked her to dance. Diana did not want to say yes; she was enjoying herself with the two brothers, their cousin and Emily, laughing and talking more than she had done at any of the other assemblies that her mother had dragged her to. However, she knew perfectly well why she was here, and the will to fight against her mother's desires for her to meet and charm every man she met was too weak. So, she mingled and smiled at people whose names she was sure she would not remember in a few hours, accepted dance invitations often without even pausing to remember if she was saying yes to the same person more than once, and tried to scurry back to the small group of people – _her_ people – as often as possible.

The assembly was just winding down when Richard asked her to dance again.

"You've danced with the Robertson fellow twice now," he reminded her, his tone teasing. Diana wondered if that was just his default setting. "People will talk unless you say yes to someone else."

"Perhaps I should say yes to your brother, then," shot back Diana.

Richard snorted. "Why? I am the better dancer."

"He is the better conversationalist."

"You wound me."

"Apparently not enough," laughing a little, Diana accepted his hand again and tried to avoid her mother's eye, even though she could see her watching them.

"John Boothe has been telling anyone who will listen that you are insolent and rude," said Richard suddenly, as casually as if he were talking about the weather.

Diana sighed. "Well, my mother will not be pleased to hear that."

"You did not let me finish," Richard's eyes twinkled. "Fortunately, you have charmed enough of our other friends that no one is taking him seriously. Was that a deliberate move?"

Diana rolled her eyes. "I do not play chess every time I open my mouth to speak to someone new. Your other friends were perfectly lovely. Mr. Boothe was rude. I was simply conversing on a level he could understand."

Richard watched her for a few moments, his face unexpectedly devoid of humour. He looked thoughtful, and Diana tried to avoid his eyes. _"Do_ you play chess, Miss Harris?" he asked suddenly.

Diana wrinkled her nose in thought. "I suppose I did learn it at one time. I doubt it remember now."

"I think you'd be quite good at it. Perhaps we shall have a little game in the park tomorrow. I must warn you though," he grinned, the teasing returning to his voice immediately. "I never lose."

Diana raised an eyebrow. "Well, there is a first time for everything, isn't there?"

Richard threw his head back and laughed. "Indeed, there is."


End file.
